


That Voice You're Hearing

by fireweed15



Category: Gravity Falls, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, you can have this ship when you pry it from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireweed15/pseuds/fireweed15
Summary: Being an account of the perks of paper-thin walls.





	

The apartments were affordable– to the point of being cheap, which meant the walls and ceilings were paper thin. This of course meant that Ford was subjected to the sounds of his neighbors on either side and above him. It wasn’t the best arrangement in terms of research atmosphere, but it was nothing headphones couldn’t fix.

Except for the early morning hours– which, surprisingly, wasn’t a bad thing. The first time it happened, the sound woke him more than the mug of coffee in his hand did. It wasn’t bad singing– the voice was female, light, definitely skilled. Ella Fitzgerald suited the singer well. The voice sang twice before the shower stopped and the sounds filtering through the ceiling were once more quiet shuffling.

This became the standard. Everyday at about 6:15 in the morning, from somewhere in the apartment above, he could hear quiet rustling, a shower running– and within minutes, someone singing, always the same light, almost sirenic voice.

He almost considered leaving a note on the door praising the quality of the music– it was easy to suppose that, his apartment being 426, the one above would be 526– but being the devout follower of the scientific method that he was, mere supposition wasn’t going to cut it.

That and it just seemed skeevy, vaguely stalkerish– enjoying in silence was fine, but there were lines like that that one didn’t cross.

•

The first time Ford heard The Voice (capitalized) outside of the 6:15 to 6:30 block was a Saturday afternoon at the mailboxes as he flipped through the mail. The same sirenic quality– much more distinct, and all things considered, close. He glanced up, scanning the lobby.

The only other person in the lobby was a mother and her young child. The mother was pulling mail from her post box ( _526_ ) and, very quietly singing. _“Unforgettable, in every way / And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay…”_ She looked down at the child, who looked up at her with something like adoration on face.

Somehow, Ford could relate. Before he had the chance to really think about how to approach the situation, his mouth ran off with him. “Are you in apartment five twenty-six?”

She stopped mid-bar and glanced over at him. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Did some of our mail get crossed?” She held up the envelopes in her hand.

“No, no– it’s all accounted for,” he replied, shaking his head before extending his hand. “Stanford Pines.”

“Pearl Zaveri,” she replied, accepting his hand, “and this is my daughter Nilima.”

Ford offered the child a pleasant smile, but she hid her face in her mother’s side, shy. Fair enough– he’d been a shy child, too. “The only reason I asked about the apartment number,” he began, speaking to Pearl once more, “is the walls in this building are so thin, I hear you sing in the morning.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s early in the morning–”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut in. “It’s nice.”

She started to thank him, but was cut off as the child behind her tugged on the hem of her tunic, her hand fluttering through what Ford could only assume was some kind of pidgin ASL. “Please be patient, honey,” she said gently before addressing Ford once more. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I had an audience, but I’m glad you like it.”

“If you’d prefer I stop, I have headphones that block outside noise fantastically,” he offered.

“If you don’t mind hearing it, I don’t mind if you catch a few bars here and there,” she replied lightly, taking her daughter’s hand.

Their conversation had turned mobile as they moved for the elevators. As the adults exchanged small talk, Ford noticed out of the corner of his eye the way Pearl’s daughter eyed him in the critical way that young children did until she noticed something and tugged on her mother’s hand. Pearl looked down and watched Nilima’s gestures. The specific meaning was lost to him, but he could hazard a guess– that she’d noticed his polydactyly.

Pearl took her daughter’s hands in hers and shook her head, wordlessly chiding. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She doesn’t know much better. I’m trying, but–”

“It’s alright,” he replied easily. “She’s not the first to notice and she’s not going to be the last.” As he spoke, he offered Nilima his hand so that she could satisfy her curiosity. After a moment of hesitation, she took his hand and started carefully examining the extra digit.

“Thank you,” Pearl said, relief obvious in her voice.

The elevator came to a smooth halt and opened on the fourth floor. “This is my stop,” Ford announced, waiting until Nilima released his hand before moving to step out. “It was nice to meet you officially.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” she said, blocking the door sensors so they wouldn’t close. “If we ever get to be a bother, feel free to tap the ceiling to get em to stop.”

“Twice on the pipe if the answer is no?” he teased.

“Exactly,” she confirmed, stepping back into the elevator car. “Have a good afternoon.”

Content in having finally put a name to the voice, and in having met his upstairs neighbor, Ford returned to his own apartment to fix a pot of coffee and begin the day’s research. Just as he started to pour a cup, Pearl’s voice filtered down through the ceiling. _“Hey girl what you doin’ down there–”_

**Author's Note:**

> A Prompt a Day Challenge – “you live in the apartment above me and everyday I can hear you singing in the shower but you’re really good and it makes my day” au
> 
> Title is a remnant of when I thought I was going to work "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel into the fic.


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